


Pyro

by Rouxyn



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-21 02:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10675398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rouxyn/pseuds/Rouxyn
Summary: After being defeated in New York, Loki has taken the name Pyro and has moved to an obscure countryside to hide from any who would look from him - whether to make him face justice for his crimes, or account for the wasted chitauri given to him. In his hideaway, he meets a girl who falls for him. All she knows is that he's a broken man with a hidden past, and Loki is terrified to let her discover the truth.This is their story, from her eyes.





	Pyro

**Author's Note:**

> Despite that I am using the background of Marvel Loki, I decided to integrate some of the characteristics of Norse Loki as well.

I wondered along the root-sewn path, oblivious to everything except the call of the autumn wind. Its wispy tones held a note of secrecy: one my ears alone could decipher. I could hear the words that were calling to me like sweet nothings. My steps hastened, doubling the tempo of each crunching tread and leaving the carnage of crumbled leaves to the wind's playful desire. The world was far from my sense, huddled into myself as I was: listening the the lullaby that towed my further into the ember woods.

The sound of my name suddenly penetrated my small cocoon, startling me and causing my feet to stumble on the worn path. Coming to a halt, I glanced around in a slight daze as I wondered where the voice had come from. It held the familiarity of an old friend, calling out from somewhere in the lost distance. I turned my head to inspect the trees for a sign of life, but felt the pressure of his body suddenly appear next to me, opposite to where I had looked. I knew to arch my neck to the side, and allowed his glove-clad fingers to pry the scarf from my neck. He ran his open mouth down the length of my throat, his warm breath washing over my skin. I turned to him: my body craving the nooks and crevices which his offered, letting them fit perfectly together. However, the distorting layers of our clothes wouldn't allow it, causing me to unbutton the heavy coat he'd pulled on to fend off the cold.

Once I'd undone them all and made to draw the coat from his shoulders, he gently took hold of my wrists and gazed at me with those ice blue eyes. "Not here," he whispered with a knowing smirk. His one hand was already intertwining his fingers with mine before he swiveled and lead me deeper into the golden woodland.

He seemed to glide through the trees: his open coat and draping scarf shifting easily with his movements, while his ink black hair rode on the gentle breeze. As such, his dark scent wafted back to me, enticing my senses to the full as I studied his beautiful features; felt the tenderness of his firm grip on my fingers; and listened to our combined breathing as it puffed in the frigid air. I was so fixated on him - drinking his whole persona in - that my attention strayed from the uneven path for a moment too long, and the toe of my boot was snared by a root. The sharp slope we had been rushing across helped propel me forward, causing the autumn colors around me to blur so that I felt as though I was briefly surrounded by cold yet vivid flames.

A small grunt passed between my lips, on the air that was knocked from my lungs when my chest rammed against his. He steadied me, gently enfolding me in his arms and taking on all my weight so that my shoes hardly brushed the leaf-littered floor. With his coat pressing into my sides, offering me comfort, I glanced up in stunned amazement. Even if he had suspected that this would have happened, there was no way possible from him to have turned and execute such a perfect arrest to my fall. I peered passed his faded green scarf with eyes like a deer's, my mind whirring for an explanation that wouldn't come.

I'd always known that Pyro was unlike anyone else. I'd met him as a very lost, nomadic soul that was so broken, I felt he would shatter if I so much as looked at him with the wrong expression. The closer I'd gotten to him, the more he seemed to conceal the cracks within himself, effectively shielding his deeper self from me. I could, however, still detect his anger. It was smoldering, boiling beneath the surface, aching to be let out before it burned him up from the inside. I had hardly known who he was and had offered my empathetic support, and somehow that had turned into something deeper, stronger, wilder... and more unpredictable.

"Are you alright?" he breathed with worry. The wispy cloud formed from his mouth blew into my face and broke through my inner rambles. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?" he inquired gruffly, his slender brows furrowing together over his topaz eyes, causing spidery lines to decorate his forehead.

Wanting to reassure him and remove the haunting expression from his features, I turned my attention into myself to see if anything had been disturbed by my sudden stumble. Despite the warm strain running down the front of my foot, Pyro's support had kept any further damaged from occurring. "I'm alright," I stated gently. To show the sincerity of my claim, I moved to gradually find the ground again. He seemed hesitant to let me down, allowing the process to happen in slow degrees. When my soles were crushing the fallen leaves again, I took the opportunity to remove my hands from his chest and cup them behind his neck.

Somehow, he was less prepared for this: somehow taken by surprise when I drew his head down and found his lips with mine. It was a kiss I'd given him many times before, when something happened to remind me just how much he was hiding from me. It was slow but deep, beseeching him to open up to me. He understood it well enough, often allowing me a glimpse of what was going on in his tragic world. Today, though, he seemed to be in some sort of rush, and returned the kiss for a fleeting moment before reaching up to unclasp my fingers. Taking hold of one hand again, he turned his back toward the trail and led on.

I tried to think of what to make of this rejection, and of his obvious urgency for the two of us to get to his cottage. Suddenly the atmosphere had gone from our secret escape from society's eyes, to a more sinister feel of two people on the run. I decided to put it out of my mind, determined to resolve the situation as soon as my focus could be spared from the treacherous path.

We hurried on: the silent trees looming over us, occasionally allowing a dry leaf to twirl in the tumbling breeze. The sharp decline on the earth soon leveled out, letting the uneven trample for our journey become a rhythmic dash across the untamed terrain. Just as my body started to radiate waves of heat and my breathing had grown heavier, the wink of sun-touched glass sparkled through the bodies of lumber. The trees were becoming more sparse as we approached the meadow which we we headed for. We slowed to a trot, and further to a comfortable stroll before we stepped into the lawn of long golden grass - a two-story dwelling at its center... Pyro's hidden cottage. I took a moment to absorb its homey essence. I could spy the contents of the study and the living room on the second and first level respectively through the glass wall, which faced westward to catch the last rays of sunlight. The rest of the architecture was that of a modern grey-stone cottage, draped in a seclusion anyone would yearn for.

My hand was given a gentle tug, and I turned my eyes onto Pyro's warm smile. This was my image of home: seeing him clasping my outstretched hand; his cottage in the background; shrouded by the rolling hills of amber and crimson in the fading sunlight. My stolen breath left my lips to mingle with the passing breeze, and I let those firm fingers guide me forward.

The dry grass whispered as it brushed against our clothing, and the wooden boards creaked when we stepped onto the porch steps. I expected him to unlock and stand back from the doorway like a gentleman, as was his habit. But he seemed to be in a peculiar mood. After unlocking, he strode back to my side and bent down in a way that made me frown questioningly at his figure. He didn't notice as he curled his arms behind my body and knocked my knees out from behind, effectively making me fall into his hold. "Oooh," I crooned, quick to interlink my hands at the nape of his neck for extra support. I couldn't help anxiously glancing about, alert for any obstacles which might send us sprawling across the polished floor. However, when it became clear that he found the task effortless - kicking the door shut before navigating through the interior of his quaint abode - I relaxed enough to steal a glance at his face.


End file.
